


Tim Bisley's (Probably) Not From Outer Space

by soupytwist



Category: Spaced
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, The X-Files - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupytwist/pseuds/soupytwist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can you metaphorically be a crack team of FBI agents finding the truth together against all odds when one of you is also metaphorically chopping the other one up with a scalpel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tim Bisley's (Probably) Not From Outer Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blithers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithers/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, blithers! I hope you like this. And I wanted to make clear that I do know that "From Outer Space" is the book. *g*
> 
> And as usual: thankyou, lovely beta readers. Cat and Alpheratz, you are both awesome women who I am very glad to know. If this is readable, it's thanks to you.

**23 METEOR STREET**

 **10.13 P.M.**

 

 **DAISY is dressed very much like a certain DANA SCULLY, with white medical scrubs, protective eyewear, hair up. She has a DICTAPHONE (which looks suspiciously like a cheap cassette player she bought from Woolworths for a fiver in 1996).**

 **DAISY: Subject is apparently human, male, bleached hair, about 178cm tall, shows signs of having fallen off a skateboard a lot recently.**

 **(The figure on the autopsy table is now, to absolutely nobody's surprise, revealed to be TIM.)**

 **DAISY: This investigation was designed to find some answers, to hopefully explain his very strange recent behaviour. Instead, I just found more questions.**

 **(She gets out scary-looking scalpel.)**

 **DAISY:  I’m starting with the Y incision now...**

 **(She plunges the scalpel into TIM’s chest.)**

 **(TIM sits up and screams.)**

-

Tim was used to some pretty strange dreams – and Daisy had been a regular feature of them in one way or another for a while now.  But one thing bothered him.

“I thought I’d be _Mulder_ ,” he explained to Mike, as they swung back and forth, ignoring the rapidly forming queue of six year olds and their increasingly irate parents. “If Daisy’s Scully, it only makes _sense_ that I’d be Mulder.”

“Maybe you are,” said Mike, squinting up at the pale blue sky. “Metaphorically. Or something.”

“I don’t know... Can you metaphorically be a crack team of FBI agents finding the truth together against all odds when one of you is also metaphorically chopping the other one up with a scalpel? It doesn’t make sense, Mike!”

Mike somehow managed to look even more thoughtful. “I don’t know, Timmy. Maybe it means what you want it to mean. Maybe the truth is out there.”

Tim jumped down from the swing and gave himself a point for not pushing Mike really hard _or_ glaring at the small ginger kid waiting to take his place.

Mike was Tim’s best friend, obviously, but he did have a tendency to get a bit _too_ into the mysterious conspiracy thing. Tim thought briefly of the time Mike had decided that some dodgy E he’d taken was the fault of a North London-based Soviet spy network.  He’d got most of the way to Moscow before the authorities had realised he didn’t have a visa, or in fact a valid passport, and been stopped by several serious looking guards with machine guns. It was even worse than the time they’d gone to some artsy-fartsy bar with Brian and he’d got on to the topic of Tracey Emin and finally had to be coaxed out of the toilets with a packet of pistachios.

Tim rubbed his eyes. Clearly the stuff about Sophie was just getting to him.

 

-

 **IN SOME CLUB IN CAMDEN**

 **2.34 A.M**

 **TIM: And I’m just really glad, you know? It wouldn’t be the same without her here! It would be like –**

 **STRANGER NEXT TO TIM IN THE CLOAK-ROOM QUEUE: Peanuts without salt? Salt without vinegar? Vinegar without chips? Chips without... salt?**

 **TIM: Er, I suppose so. That’s not quite what I meant, to be honest.**

 **A very bright LIGHT suddenly appears, shining right in TIM's face. There may or may not be mysterious WHIRRING NOISES like a high wind or government helicopter.**

 **TIM: Help, help, I’m being abducted!**

 **A VOICE that sounds STRANGELY FAMILIAR: Tim Bisley! Do you want to believe?**

 

-

The next day, Tim stumbled out of bed in search of the perfect cup of tea.

He checked his watch against the clock instinctively, then turned to Daisy in a panic. “I’m missing nine minutes!”

“Er, Tim?” Daisy didn't quite get the expression that meant she was about to pet Colin on the head, but it was a close thing. “Your watch is wrong.”

“Oh.” Tim paused. “Are you sure?”

“Yep. You missed the first ten minutes of the _Home and Away_ omnibus you always say you don’t watch the other day, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Tim took the cup of tea Daisy proffered, without thinking. “And last night, you didn’t see any, um, lights? Or... mysterious voices telling you that the truth is out there? Or about government conspiracies? And you didn't wake up with a mysterious mark on the back of your neck? Or, um, anything like that?”

Daisy took a sip of her own cup. “No... Did you spend too much time close to Tyres? You know if you’re in an enclosed space with him for more than seven and a half minutes then you start to hallucinate.” She nodded to herself. “It’s that or you put _The X-Files_ on again before you went to sleep and got confused. Again.”

“I don’t think so.” Tim turned to get the toast that he knew would be popping out of the toaster within about ten seconds.  He buttered the slices, and handed a plate to Daisy.  “And you really didn’t see or hear anything?”

Daisy swallowed a bite, and took another sip of hot tea. “Nope. Maybe it was while I was teaching Mike the Macarena?”

Tim suddenly flashed back to watching exactly that and nearly choked on his toast.

 

-

 **OUTSIDE THE ODDBINS ON THE CORNER**

 **6.51 P.M.**

 **It is two days later, RAINING hard, and TIM and DAISY are huddled under a black umbrella on their way to buy BOOZE for MARSHA.**

 **DAISY: We should get something in for us, as well, have a night of it, something a bit special.**

 **TIM (who has developed a PERFECTLY REASONABLE FEAR of DAISY's idea of fancy dining): Like some more of that cheap plonk?**

 **DAISY: No!**

 **TIM: Like some more of that _really_ cheap plonk?**

 **DAISY: No!**

 **They are about to reach ODDBINS when some teenagers on bikes whizz past, splashing up water and throwing...**

 **TIM:** _ **Frogs?**_ **It’s** _**raining frogs?**_

 **DAISY: I’m sure there’s some perfectly reasonable explanation.**

 **TIM: Yeah, those tossers are throwing them at us!**

 **(TIM makes THE WANKER SIGN at the offenders: he’s hampered a bit by the black umbrella but manages not to fall over.)**

 **(The patter of frogs gradually fades out.)**

 **DAISY: They’re not real frogs, are they?**

 

-

They ended up with a compromise dinner: slightly nicer plonk, and while it wasn’t the three course roast that Daisy had gone on about, the casserole was what Tim called “nice” and Daisy insisted on calling “deliiicious!”

The epiphany happened in the middle of washing up. Daisy was singing under her breath and getting suds everywhere. Tim was drying, and he suddenly realised that he had probably known what was going on the whole time.

“Um,” he said, thinking, _Dammit, Mulder must have had a much better line than that, even with the water bed and the table made of porn. At least he’d have **had** a line._

Daisy turned round. “Yes, Tim?... Oh.”

It turned out that kissing Daisy was nothing like the imagined snogs he’d had with Gillian Anderson, and very much like kissing Daisy. It was soft and slightly awkward, and also no imaginary snog with a fictional FBI agent had involved laughing because Daisy hadn’t taken off the washing up gloves and had left a wet mark on his t-shirt.

-

 **23 METEOR STREET**

 **4.19 A.M.**

 

 **TIM and DAISY are asleep.**

 **Outside the window, some ALIENS ponder looking in, maybe doing a bit of ABDUCTION. But they don’t.**


End file.
